


The Art of Ownership

by Jen (ConsultingWriters)



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: (both consensual and non), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Politics of Alpha/Beta/Omegas, Rape, Rape Recovery, alpha!Bond, omega!Q, politics in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriters/pseuds/Jen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is Bond's Omega, and happily so; Omegas live in a dangerous world, however. Ownership can be won and lost far too easily.</p><p>
  <i>Every Omega’s greatest fear: to be claimed, and forgotten. To belong entirely to somebody else, but cease to matter.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I found Omega!Verse. Oops. I've played with ideas within Omega!Verse, obviously it varies massively between writers (legality, rights of Omegas, etc), so I've got my own sub-variation which hopefully works. Feel free to ask for clarification if needed!
> 
> Hunters-Avenging-Hogwarts posted this headcanon (note spoilers!): http://hunters-avenging-hogwarts.tumblr.com/post/42609053842/headcanon-omegaverse-q-is-bonds-omega-bond-is
> 
> ... I couldn't resist, I really couldn't.
> 
> Enjoy! Jen.

Q had been claimed within a week of Bond meeting him. 

Honestly, he hadn’t even been that surprised. James Bond reeked of Alpha pheromones from miles away, and Q was a rather unique Omega; he appealed to Bond’s interest in the exotic, while still being – quite incontrovertibly – an Omega.

Omegas did not take high-ranking roles in government. They didn’t take high-ranking roles _anywhere_ , quite frankly. Society had developed to rate Omegas as inferiors. Needy, desperate, clingy. The stereotypes held some truth, but only minimal.

Bond had taken one look at him, and despite everything he had ever told himself, Q knew.

Q had never asked to be Omega, hated being so with all the passion he could muster; he decided from the moment he understood what he was, that he would not accept it lying down. That decision had caused a barrage of issues across his life on a personal level; on a professional level, he kept his head down, and utilised the thing most Omegas had in common – quite a frightening level of intelligence. Biology had been unkind to them in most areas but intelligence.

It was actually quite easy to keep his head down for much of his early life; Q popped suppressants like sweets to keep his scent and desires in check, hid in computers. Alphas tended to be quite arrogant, ambitious types; a skinny, reticent computer geek was hardly like to be their ideal Omega.

Everything changed, quite impressively, when he reached MI6.

He was installed as the head of Q-branch almost instantly; the previous Quartermaster had retired, leaving an opening for a bright young thing to revolutionise the department. Somebody, somewhere, had also decided that an Omega would be perfectly capable of running Q-branch.

It was met with scepticism. Q himself was met with a level of interest he’d never had to deal with before; every Alpha in the vicinity – and there were a fair number among the active agents – managed to at least have a passing sniff at him. Some actively flirted, others just stared.

Q didn’t respond; he didn’t want an Alpha. He didn’t want to belong to somebody else, be made servile to somebody else’s wishes. In retrospect, he really wasn’t entirely certain how Bond managed to get him to chuck all of those thoughts away, quite so easily.

Later, Q would blame Bond’s pheromones. Bond’s mere _voice_ was enough to spark interest; suppressants were not magic, Q was long overdue a heat, and Bond was unspooling his reason with merciless precision. The brushes of skin, words, unintentional contact; Bond shut the door to Q’s office one afternoon, leaned forward, and simply kissed him.

Q lost track of his reasoning at about that stage. Bond was indescribably good at kissing, tasted like everything Q hadn’t known he was looking for, and despite being an Alpha – and well within his rights – didn’t decide to claim Q on the spot.

If it hadn’t been for the scent markings warning others off, Q could have almost let it pass for flirting.

Within a week, Bond had claimed him. They went out for drinks, both already aware it was a fait accompli: they wound up in Bond’s flat, and MI6 were informed that they were moving in together within two days.

Bond was nothing like the horror stories of Alphas would have suggested; Omegas occupied a world where their relationships were liable to be uncomfortable, often abusive things. It was a pity; their biologies were designed to work in tandem. A reciprocal relationship was beneficial for both parties on a ridiculous number of levels.

Bond seemed to understand this far better than Q ever had. He took Q in his arms, kissed him, and started to show Q how Alpha and Omega relationships were _supposed_ to work.

Q’s work improved from an already formidable start. The anger that lived under Bond’s skin started to fade from a constant burning to a dull throb, only set alight under certain circumstances. Bond started to realign his life around his Omega, his other half, and Q revelled in the odd sensation of being so utterly and entirely loved.

They both discovered, with an unspeakable degree of joy, just how exceptional sex was in a proper relationship with their parallel race. Both of them needed one another; Bond needed the strength Q conveyed, needed to dominate it, and Q needed somebody who was _able_ to dominate him.

It was not lost on Q, just how fortunate he was. Bonded Omegas would often be made to leave their jobs, have children, with little to no autonomy; Bond ignored that societal norm altogether, uninterested in children, and seeing no point in stopping Q working.

The exception was when they were in heat. Q was not legally allowed suppressants now he had bonded; he went into heat two weeks later, causing Bond to get them both the week off. They used every single second of the week available to them, and by the end, Q was addled with enough of Bond’s pheromones to really stop caring about his pride or anything more complex.

He didn’t even worry about missing work. Everything about this was something of a first for Q.

It was not perfect, naturally. Whatever Bond did, Q could not escape the knowledge that if Bond asked him anything, he would do it without question. His allegiances were now placed entirely with James. Bond never abused that power, but Q could never quite forget, at the same time, that he held it; the power was tipped in Bond’s favour, with Q dependent on Bond’s loyalties.

Bond kept him marked, tangibly and intangibly; he marked Q’s neck, obviously, and the scent marking was occasionally oppressively strong. It was a lovely way to rid Q of the Alphas that somehow kept finding excuses to visit Q-branch, while still feeling oddly like an equal An odd novelty.

Q began to forget, gradually. He was so, absurdly fortunate to have Bond – and as months trickled towards a year, a year and a half, he slid into a routine. It was like a normal, non-Dynamic relationship; they looked after one another. Bond cooked usually, Q cleaned, they split the rent, they argued over minutiae.

They lay in bed, breathing one another in; Q scent clung to Bond too, a subtle reminder for Bond that he would always have somebody there who he should take care of.

“I’m on a mission for the next three weeks minimum,” Bond told Q; the darkness cloaked them both, Q curled into Bond’s side, palm flat against Bond’s chest, feeling the soft, insistent thrumming of his Alpha’s heartbeat. His body was smothered in Bond’s scent, and he nuzzled closer, wanting more of it, wanting Bond to keep him forever, wanting to _drown_ in Bond’s scent.

Q nodded vaguely. He knew the full details of the mission brief; for god’s sake, he would be giving Bond his equipment in the morning. “Are you alright to leave me?” Q asked tentatively. Bond would be well within his rights to force Q to go with him, but _jesus_ , he hated flying.

Bond had gone on many other missions over the course of their relationship, but not for that long, historically. The longest had been just over sixteen days; Q had been practically pining for Bond by the time he returned, and Bond’s possessiveness – and jealousy – had been off the scale. They hadn’t left the bedroom for the next day and a half, until Q once again smelt of only Bond, and Bond could be certain the Quartermaster was entirely _his_.

“Will you be alright?” Bond asked, quite honestly. Despite Q’s protestations to the contrary, it was very difficult for a claimed Omega to lose their Alpha for any prolonged periods. They were designed to remain together. Q’s psyche balanced with Bond’s; Bond cared for him, loved him, protected him. His absence would be extremely difficult.

Thankfully, the pair weren’t due to go into heat together for another couple of months. If that had been the case, Bond simply would have had to decline the mission – it was entirely impossible to leave a bonded Omega without their Alpha.

Q, naturally, nodded anyway. He would find a way to be ‘alright’. He didn’t ask Bond, because Bond would lie; yes, he would hate leaving Q. Q was his most cherished, most prized possession, and leaving him alone would be devastating for him too.

It was the only real downside to the type of relationship they’d managed. The odd, empathic bond they had formed made the treacherous realms of emotion far harder to navigate.

Bond kissed him bruisingly, Q aching for more, straining towards him. He wanted to be stained. If Bond was going to leave, he wanted to remember him down to his bones, be left with some feeling of being so utterly possessed, so completely _loved_.

Bond drew memories in Q’s skin and his mind and his body, Q’s body adapted for him, the pair of them fitting perfectly. “My Q,” Bond growled, as Q’s body clenched around him, and Bond came deep into his beautiful Omega. Q nodded against him, whimpering, letting out a soft cry as Bond marked him, peppered his body so Q had no chance of forgetting him.

He’d be walking oddly in the morning, but that was really part and parcel of a Dynamic relationship. “Don’t forget me,” Q breathed.

Every Omega’s greatest fear: to be claimed, and forgotten. To belong entirely to somebody else, but cease to matter.

Bond kissed him very gently on slightly parted lips. Q moaned against him, body moulding to Bond’s form. “I could never,” Bond told him, letting Q hum against him happily. 

“You’ll…”

“You’ll be alright,” Bond interrupted soothingly, thumb rubbing away the indented lines of worry in Q’s expression. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know,” Q replied, eyes shuttering closed. Bond’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close, letting Q know he would never be abandoned.

-

Q was getting twitchy.

He needed his Alpha back, and only _two days_ had passed. After being claimed, it became incredibly hard for an Omega to keep going without their Alpha around. The feelings of protection, of belonging, became addictive – their biology compelled them to become linked with their Alphas, constantly.

Irritating, but unavoidable.

Much like Alex. He was the newest double-oh – replacing 009 – and Q was finding it very difficult to work with him. He seemed to believe Q somehow owed him, by simple virtue of being an Omega; Q, aware of his relative status against an Alpha, could not directly confront him about his behaviour.

As his Quartermaster, he could make his life far harder. When Alex decided to claim one of Q’s brightest young acolytes – and coincidently, the only other Omega in Q-branch – Q quite intentionally made Alex’s personal computer irretrievably die. His work computer remained intact. Nobody in MI6 had to replace the personal computer; Alex forked out for a new one.

It was a tiny twinge of victory, but notable. Omegas didn’t have victory where Alphas were concerned, not in any forum. Q watched Alex swear and curse through his surveillance systems, and smiled happily.

He missed Bond.

-

Nine days. Bond’s scent was wearing off incrementally; Q started sleeping in Bond’s shirts, just to keep the scent with him. He despised being quite so intrinsically linked to Bond, but it was unavoidable, he _knew_ it was unavoidable.

Bond called in intermittently, both work-related and personal; the calls were small lifelines, just ways of linking themselves together. “When I get back, I swear, I’m not letting you out the flat for a week,” Bond growled; Q smiled despite himself.

“I will be holding you to that,” Q smirked, feeling his body respond on instinct. He could imagine Bond inside him, knotting; the mere thought made Q’s body respond in a rather visceral, somewhat work-inappropriate way.

“You smell good,” purred a voice in the doorway; Q looked up, finding Alex in the doorway of his office. Q cursed his luck; naturally, Alex had to arrive _just_ as Q released a rather obvious wave of Omega pheromones, triggered by Bond’s insinuations.

“I’m working,” Q told him sharply, preparing to shut the door in his face. 

Alex sidled further in, his smile saccharine, unnerving in a way Q couldn’t define. He was growing uncomfortable; Alex was an Alpha with something to prove, and Q disliked being trapped in a confined space with him on principle.

The pheromones were dissipating by the second, the overarching scent of an Alpha starting to encroach. “I am quite serious, I have work to be getting on with,” Q repeated, a shiver running down his spine.

“Q, M’s asking for the new tracker prototypes,” Eve asked, swinging into the doorway; she took one look at the situation, Q’s evident discomfort and the stench of conflicting pheromones, and her eyes narrowed. “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Q said quickly, shooting a sharp look towards Alex. “Double-oh nine was just leaving.”

Eve nodded, watching 009 leave. Q handed Eve a collection of papers, barely able to meet her eye; she was a Beta, but practically null. It left her a little more attuned to the various scents around MI6, but without many of the compulsions even a Beta would experience. Q envied her beyond measure for that, regardless of how good Bond was an Alpha.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Certainly,” Q told her, his smile bright and forced. “Thank you, Miss Moneypenny.”

“Eve,” she corrected lightly, and left.

-

Two weeks. Q was about twelve hours and another intrusive glance away from illegally finding suppressants. Bond would be livid, but damn it, Q was getting tired of his body screaming out for Bond. He felt horribly conspicuous.

Not to mention that the moment he heard Bond’s voice, came in any form of contact with his missing Alpha, his body released a wave of pheromones that had the habit of distressing most Alphas in the vicinity.

The irony was that he and Bond were quite restrained with their sex lives. When they were in heat, all bets were off, but in the interim – it was no better or worse than normal couples. They had sex when they wanted, no more than that, no _necessity_ to copulate.

The moment they were separated, everything turned to hell, for both Alphas and Omegas. Alphas – despite popular media – dealt with separation no better than Omegas. It was stressful. Alphas were prone to anxiety and worry, acute jealousy, and became instinctively more violent.

Still. Bond and Q were nothing if not exceptional, and that spanned into their biology and personal lives. There was no noticeable change in either’s work ethic. In fact, they were nigh on perfect.

“You’re flaunting yourself now,” Alex told him darkly, catching Q in the lift on their own; Q had done everything in his living power to keep himself from being alone with Alex for any period of time.

Q got off when the lift stopped, waited for it to return to the floor, finally got himself down to Q-branch. He locked himself in the office, avoided speaking to anybody for the rest of the day.

Bond’s mission was not going well. He would be delayed, by another week or so. Q exhaled slowly, and tried not to worry about that at all. It would be absolutely fine, he could be absolutely fine on his own.

Six days later, everything came to a head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody (and there are a lot you of you...) reading/enjoying this fic.
> 
> I'm... erm... well.
> 
> All warnings apply. Just... all warnings. You have been told. I cannot overstate this. HEED WARNINGS.
> 
> I'm going to go retreat to behind notional parapets before people start throwing things at me. I still blame hunters-avenging-hogwarts for all this!! _Look what you did_. I will disappear with the assurance that I will fix things. Eventually. 
> 
> Enjoy. Jen.

Q was too busy, and too tired.

Bond was unreachable. His mission forced him into deep cover; he was unable to make contact for a few days, leaving a rather bereft Q to fend for himself, waiting for his Alpha to contact.

The news travelled fast. Given the way Omegas were traditionally used, Q probably should have seen it coming.

Being with Bond allowed Q to feel safe, loved; worryingly, it also gave him a disproportionate sense of security. The simple act of believing himself untouchable was a red flag to Alphas with a superiority complex; he attracted attention, and without Bond, had little to no chance of deflecting it.

He was slammed against a corridor wall, his head bouncing off plastered brick with a hiss of pain, vision swimming. The scent assaulted him; an Alpha, a fucking _Alpha_ , far too close for comfort and quite distinctly _not Bond_.

“Fucking Omega whore, advertising your smell all over HQ,” a voice hissed, and Q recognised Alex’s voice. If he concentrated, the scent was distinctly recognisable too. The words did not bode well, everything about this was very much not good; Q breathed quickly, trying to clear the faint fog in his vision.

Naturally, there was nobody else around. Q didn’t really want to consider what would happen if there were; probably, nothing. As a general rule, nobody risked interrupting a violent or angry Alpha, no matter what orientation they were.

“Off, get _off_ ,” Q snarled back, trying to fight.

Alex slapped him with enough force to nearly knock him over, a hand in his hair yanking him directly upright again. Q gave a small yelp of shock and pain, scalp burning, trying to keep hold of his glasses before they went flying.

Q was dragged by the hair into the nearest room a couple of metres along, one of the IT technical support rooms; not used very often, quite large, rows upon rows of desks, dust lying in thick blankets, clear squares left behind where computers had once sat. 

The door slammed shut with terrifying finality.

Alex slammed Q bodily against the nearest desk, the edge cutting painfully into his lower back. He had no time to recollect himself before Alex kissed him, biting his lip viciously and drawing blood, hot and rusty on their tongues.

Q was in trouble. He could not hope to fight off an Alpha in this state; Alex’s pheromones were overwhelming, his actions dictated by a physiological need to dominate and possess, and Q – in a weakened state himself, after Bond's prolonged absence – was acutely aware that he could do precious little to stop him. Omegas were not built to fight, but to be fought for.

He fought regardless. He still had his pride, for fuck’s sake. Hands ranged over him, groping him mercilessly; Alex bit down on the side of Q’s neck hard enough to break the skin, a universal signal of Alpha dominance.

The scream bounced around the room, followed by a short, swallowed sob.

Q was flipped over, slammed forward over the desk. Dust smeared his shirt, his cardigan, puffing in a cloud of viscous grey around him. Alex bit him again, on the shoulder this time, the skin splitting once again in a burst of surprisingly intense pain. Hands tugged at Q’s trousers; Q lashed out pointlessly, his feet finding no purchase or target. One hand kept him pinned firmly on the desk, as the other pulled his trousers down roughly, exposing pale skin.

A kick made contact through more luck than judgement; Alex bellowed in pain. Q – utterly terrified – tried to bolt; he stumbled as far as the door before Alex yanked him back by the hair, hand fastening around his throat. “Please, _please_ ,” Q babbled, his stupidly circular thoughts returning to the simple and useless point that _this shouldn’t have been happening_.

Q could feel Alex’s erection digging into his hip. He swallowed vomit as he realised Alex’s knot had risen; is was going to hurt, and _jesus_ , Alex could bond with him. With no Alpha present to contest, an Omega could be reclaimed like this, regardless of whether they wanted it. Biologically, if Alex claimed him, bonded with him, that would be it – Q’s relationship with Bond would be replaced. He would lose Bond completely.

“You _have_ an Omega, more than one, I’m nothing to you,” Q tried, reasoning as best he could; Alex ignored him, unsurprisingly. Alex could take every Omega in the world, but it would not change anything; Q was there to prove a point. Q himself barely mattered in the equation, and it made him _angry_ \- it was not him, it was what he stood for as a successful Omega.

Alex believed himself a superior Alpha, believed in the subjugation of Omegas – Q, a bonded Omega with a strong Alpha, an Omega in a position of seniority – well. He was both irresistible, and needed to be taught his place.

Q could not believe it was going to happen.

Fingers started to probe around his entrance; Q could feel his mind slipping into shock, a white space. More frighteningly, he could feel his biology responding to a dominant Alpha; the fingers that pressed inside him were less painful than he anticipated. The flash of understanding – that his body was preparing itself _regardless_ of what his mind thought – was enough to draw out another terrified sob.

“All wet for me,” Alex commented, with notable interest. “God, you Omegas. Somebody wants to fuck you, you’re ready for them, needy fucks.”

“Biology is not indicative of want,” Q told him, clinging onto words as the only thing left that he had, as Alex pinned him down to the desk by the back of his neck, skin against skin.

Q cried in absolute silence as Alex lined himself up, cock nudging against his entrance. He closed his eyes, childish, trying to blot out what was happened as Alex pushed inside him with a single, brutal thrust.

A moment of tension, everything in him contracting, before Q let himself fall still.

Vomit rose in his throat as his body arranged itself around the knot, tying them together. Fighting was pointless. Trying to get away would be agonising, dangerous – dividing a knotted couples borders on being a physical impossibility – and he needed to survive. The need to survive, more dominant in Omegas than any other type of being, overrode everything.

It _hurt_.

Alex rutted against him, peppering Q with more marks; his body would be littered with them by the time Alex was done, Q knew that. He knew how it worked. Q was nothing, merely a commodity that happened to have changed hands. Bonding worked on the pheromones released during sex; Q could feel it already, the heady tang of Alex’s scent filtering into every neuron, reconditioning his will to the _wrong person_.

Alex came into him with an exultant groan. Q stuttered out another sob; he had been on contraceptives, but if Alex bonded that could be gone. He could end up pregnant, carrying the wrong person’s child, be forced to leave his job, forced to become everything he had feared. _Jesus_. He had been so stupid, so incredibly _naïve_.

His life unravelled before his eyes, as Alex groaned, shifting slightly in a way that made Q gag. They had joined completely, Q’s body accepting the invasion despite his mind _screaming_.

He was choking on Alex’s scent.

A while later, and the knot had relaxed; Alex finally pulled out, leaving Q to collapse bonelessly off the desk into a heap, crying silently to himself, trembling with shock and pain. “Fucking arrogant Omegas,” he heard Alex mutter, and didn’t have the energy to say a goddamn _word_.

Alex crouched to Q’s level, the younger man flinching the moment he came close. “You should remember your place,” he said, almost sadly; he ran a hand through Q’s hair, feeling the young man vibrate with tension beneath his hands. The feeling was intoxicating, a rush of pure power; Q could feel it echoing back at him, Alex’s _joy_ at what he had done.

He licked around Q’s neck, up to his ear. Q was entirely limp, allowed him to do whatever he wanted. The pain radiating from his behind was a reminder of what could happen if he upset an Alpha, even inadvertently.

Alex left, and Q was alone.

-

A while later, and Q was strong enough to stand. He found his way to the nearest bathroom initially, falling into it, collapsing again for a little while. His head felt like somebody was compressing his brain; every thought of Bond sent a stab of pain through the back of his skull, through every place Alex had marked him.

He rearranged his clothing, adjusted his hair, cleaned himself up as best he could. The marks were crudely obvious, the scent would be transparent to anybody even slightly attuned. He could not meet his own gaze in the mirror.

When he reached Q-branch, people watched. People stared. Everybody could see what had happened; it was drawn across his body in livid markings, illustrating that his body was not his own, and now, nor was it Bond’s.

Nobody asked, said a word. Q was an Omega. Evidently, Alex had contested Bond, and won; that change in dynamic was far more interesting than whatever happened to Q, the Omega caught in the crossfire.

Q reached his desk, fell sideways into his chair with a slight wince. One of his minions, a Beta, approached him with painkillers and water, expression apologetic and scared; he thanked them in a voice inches from breaking, and they scurried back again to work. Q waited for anaesthesia to reach him.

Everybody knew. Nothing was said.

The news would have started to whip around the rest of MI6 already. Q was covered with Alex’s scent, and Alex would hold a fair amount of Q’s; everything started to shift, subtle changes in responses.

Q-branch were bizarrely wary. They mostly consisted of Betas and Others; the Betas would not meet his eye, and the Others shot him pitying glances every once in a while. The Betas were presumably frightened of upsetting Alex, and the Others – who did not, could not understand – seemed to think it didn’t matter.

At one stage, Q disappeared to the toilet, and retched. He washed his mouth out carefully, walked back into Q-branch as though nothing happened.

He was met with eloquent silence. He didn’t go home that night, but worked until the early hours of the morning, until he passed out on the camp bed in the spare room off Q-branch.

-

Alex returned for him the next day, compounding his claim. He fucked Q over the edge of his own desk, sending papers flying.

Q stared unseeingly at a blueprint for an exploding pen while Alex pounded into him, and the pressure in his head was like the screech of a train, a constant wailing. He couldn’t remember Bond’s scent any more. It didn’t smell right.

-

Moneypenny visited Q-branch. She generally visited every few days; she had been on an internal assignment in other areas of HQ, hadn’t been there for almost week. It was more social than out of necessity; the work from Q-branch was consistently excellent, and M trusted Q implicitly to keep the branch together.

She walked in, and the atmosphere was tangibly different. Something had changed. The scents were wrong, the Betas were frightened, and there was an unfamiliar tang in the air that was almost recognisable, but she could not quite work out why.

She knocked on Q’s office door; the boy flinched violently, eyes dilated with terror as Eve walked in. He relaxed as he recognised her, his mouth twitching in an ugly, false smile.

“Moneypenny…”

“He claimed you,” Eve breathed, in sudden, awful understanding; she only needed to inhale the air of Q’s office to know, recognising the new scent patterns. Q looked up at her with hollow, bruised eyes, trembling very slightly, paler and thinner than Eve had ever seen him. “Does Bond know?”

Q laughed, an empty thing. “And I thought you cared about me, for a moment,” he shuddered out, fingers running through his hair, tearing at his scalp.

Nobody had asked him how he was, not through any of it. Alex came in a few times daily, staked his claim, walked out again. Q hadn’t even had a prolonged conversation with the man. He was what Alex told him; a whore, an Omega whore, there to be used by Alphas and discarded when convenient. He was nothing.

Q hated how little it took to be convinced that he was worthless. Alex had a knack for it. He was used for sex, and nothing else. He took it as a small mercy that he was still, somehow, allowed to work.

Bond was slipping out of his mind by increments. Q didn’t have a choice. Thinking of his former Alpha sent a rush of agony through his nerves that even Alex couldn’t match; his body had adjusted to a new Alpha, and Bond was no longer allowed to be even thought of.

“Q, are you hurt?”

It was a moot point. Yes, he was hurt, but not in any way that mattered. Nowhere was kind to Omegas, not in claimant cases. Even MI6 would not defend their Quartermaster in a claimant case; it didn’t matter. Whatever injuries he had sustained, none of them actually mattered.

Q had never hated his own biology so much.

Moneypenny took one look at him, and started to worry; an Omega was enough of a risk in a position of seniority without a mess like this. 009 had a fair amount to answer for – not for claiming an Omega, but for his work conduct. MI6 had to have certain boundaries. Perhaps they should have been formalised long before this.

If they had, maybe Q wouldn’t have been sitting behind his desk, looking like hell.

Eve walked out of Q-branch, and called Bond. She was going to be strung up for this, but damn it, there were some things that mattered too much. She balanced Bond’s current mission importance, against the threat of losing their newest Quartermaster, and it wasn’t a challenging decision.

Bond was on a plane that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody who survived this chapter's content, I send you metaphorical cookies, and the assurance that I will fix things. I'll update in a few days. Thank you.
> 
> A NOTE: This 'verse - I'm getting some questions, thought I would clarify.
> 
> I got interesting in Alpha/Omega dynamics as they pertain to animalistic tendencies within humans. If a mate is won in combat, or simply claimed in general, that is law for animals. It is binding. The rest of a pack will not contest it (as Q-branch do not here) - the alpha of a pack in animal terms dictates law.
> 
> Human society isn't quite a pack - so multiple dominants exist at once, but within their own spheres, because otherwise they would ALL kill each other. They do, however, claim their mates - this traces back to a human ancestry that (obviously) doesn't actually exist.
> 
> The scentmarking etc I'm using is to get around the advancement of human developments - biologically, as the human race develops intellectually, the dynamics become less applicable. SO, there has to some biological reasoning. Neural links via scent - which is one of the strongest of human senses in terms of how it is found in the brain (the mind remembers scents over sounds/faces/sights) - is a way of compounding that more carnal link.
> 
> I'm essentially stripping the Omegaverse into quite fundamental, animal needs. It is merciless, and violent - taking somebody's mate is cause for fights to the death, etc. So if it seems... odd, it is. It's humans with animal dynamics around one another.
> 
> I hope that makes sense... wanted to clarify that point a little, and justify my decisions towards the end of this chapter. Jen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> Okay. This entire universe is developing by the second. I owe everything to the amazing discussions I'm having down in the comments section of all this, which have clarified further what in the hell I'm doing with all this. I have some other, external perspectives involved; this should help with clarity of intention concerning the parameters of this 'verse. More to come on that score. OH, and no major warnings in this chapter.
> 
> Thank you to the multitudes of people reading, and commenting. As mentioned, the discussions over the universe as a whole are fantastic.
> 
> A final point: "Others" are essentially humans, as we are. No Omega/Alpha dynamics. The idea being that the human race is evolving; Alpha/Omega/Beta dynamics are gradually dying out, as the human race learns to survive without 'packs'.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You shouldn’t be here,” Q said quietly, not looking at Bond; his old Alpha stood in the doorway, Q could smell him. He didn’t want to look at Bond’s expression, didn’t want to see his face; instinct, forcing him to ignore Bond’s existence.

Oh god, his _scent_. Q was torn between the familiar, comforting memories of it, and pain that hammered nails through his skull. Omega minds would create the illusion of pain, to avoid the conflict of two Alphas; a defeated Alpha was not supposed to see their Omega again. The Omega mind knew that, and adapted.

Bond stayed in the doorway, moving closer to Q; the pain became fractionally worse as Q started to breathe in Bond’s scent heavily, smothered by it. “Bond, please,” he said, with terrifying quiet.

“Q, look at me,” Bond asked gently. Q was being torn apart; he needed to follow an Alpha’s orders, but he hurt, god _damn it_. He also didn’t want to see his James again, to see what he had lost. 

When Q finally lifted his head, Bond felt the angry snarl in his chest become more acute; it snapped around his ribs, restricting him. His Omega, his _Q_ , was delicately sat behind his desk, reeking of somebody else, looking strung-out and exhausted.

The moment Q looked at him properly, his Omega - _not his_ , a voice reminded him bitterly – Q flinched, gasping in pain that startled them both with its intensity.

It had been so easy to become flippant about their lives, and about what they’d created. Everything about them had been so easily managed, worked in a way that didn’t require effort or exploration. They took it as a given, ridiculous though that seemed in retrospect.

Q’s jaw was vibrating with tension, eyes darting as he tried to concentrate. He whimpered faintly as Bond came closer, shutting his eyes in an oddly childish attempt to blot him out.

“Q,” Bond murmured. Q felt the overwhelming intensity of pure pheromones, carried on Bond’s breath, far too close to him.

The pain stabbed somewhere in his lower spine when Bond reached out, placed a hand on Q’s wrist. Omega self-defence at its finest: Q took half a breath, his mind short-circuited, and he passed out.

Bond shifted abruptly forward; Q’s body collapsed forward onto his, leaving Bond to manoeuvre Q into a more comfortable position, Q’s head resting on Bond’s shoulder as he looped his arms around the younger man.

“ _Eve_ ,” he yelled, as loud as he was able.

A handful of Q-branch kids materialised within a matter of seconds, glancing at the scene in front of them with expressions of horror, terror in the Betas, general confusion in the rest. There was a buzz of conversation, of gossip, somebody yelling for Eve, the word getting around that Bond was _back_.

Eve arrived within a few minutes, batting the audience of Q-branch kids out the way; the sight of Bond, cradling the unconscious body of his Omega, was one of the most pathetic sights Eve had ever seen.

“ _James_ , do you have any _idea_ how dangerous it is to be here?” Eve chastised, ducking down to his and Q’s level; Bond’s grip on Q tightened very slightly, baring his teeth, and Eve just rolled her eyes. “Not for double-oh nine, although I can imagine your intentions towards him. I mean for Q.”

Bond’s breathing was vaguely irregular, a sense of tangible danger in the tight lines of his body.

“He is in a great deal of physical and emotional distress,” Eve murmured, reaching towards Q slowly; Bond _snarled_ , any coherency of speech long since gone, and Eve froze.

He had reverted to the very basics of biology. He was an Alpha in the rawest sense possible; all fire and anger and strength, the need to hunt and kill. In this state, he could lose the distinction between friend and enemy in the fight to protect his mate.

Eve backed off as rapidly as was safe. Superb. Not only was their Quartermaster now in pieces, but their best double-oh agent appeared to also be falling through the cracks in potentially dangerous style. 

As far as M was concerned – and Eve too – they would keep Q, and Bond, intact. MI6 were working at their peak; Q and Bond were both intrinsic parts of that. They all had a vested interest in keeping the pair of them safe.

Eve settled opposite Bond and Q, keeping careful eye contact with Bond.

“You need to let me take care of Q,” Eve said slowly; she didn’t move, didn’t pose any discernible threat. Bond was quite literally a dangerous animal, in this state. “You want to deal with double-oh nine, and believe me when I say you have my full support in doing so.”

“Why?” Bond asked roughly, Q’s head lolling; Bond adjusted his posture slightly, supporting Q with tenderness belied by the tension Eve could see rolling off him in waves.

“While he is bonded, it will be very difficult for you to speak to him,” Eve explained gently. “His instincts require him to be obedient to his Alpha. There’s a reason Omegas don’t cheat on their partners, James. It becomes an intrinsic part of his biology.”

“Don’t patronise me.”

“I’m not,” Eve said simply, still keeping her own posture entirely relaxed, despite mentally cataloguing that she could reach her handgun if required at a moment’s notice. “James, as far as his instincts dictate, you are an enemy of his Alpha – you were beaten. He is expected to show allegiance to double-oh nine alone, now, and you are by extension an enemy. His mind cannot cope.”

“I was not _beaten_ ,” Bond hissed, despite knowing that wasn’t how their biology would construe it. He should have been there to protect Q, should have been there to care for him and keep him safe, or at least install protection for his absence.

Bond had wanted what Q wanted. Q, who had spent his life denying being an Omega, wanted monogamy. Alphas traditionally had secondary Omegas, or Betas, to guard in the unlikely case of their absence. A simple scent mark, and Bond could have left most of Q-branch to take care of Q.

He had succumbed to simple complacency. Being an established Alpha in MI6, having a long-term bond with another Omega – he had let his duties to Q slip. Idealism was all very well, but apparently, he could not afford it where Q was concerned. He had failed entirely.

Now, Bond was struggling with how _passionately_ he wanted to murder 009. Usually, he took his duties quite stoically, very calmly; they were for Queen and Country, for his job, for any other reason. The thought of 009 – and Bond could smell him on Q’s skin, read him in the livid marks on Q’s pale frame – made him feel a type of anger he hadn’t know he was capable of experiencing.

“James, you can trust me,” Eve told him steadily. Bond was far from calming down, but enough rationality had kicked in to prevent him from killing Eve outright. “Somebody needs to look after Q. Get him to Medical, and go after double-oh nine. It’s your right.”

Bond’s arm slid beneath Q, lifted him easily; Q’s arm fell loosely to one side, head cradled on Bond’s shoulder like a sleeping child. It had to be difficult; Bond’s anger was virulent and all-consuming, would translate to the grip of his hands and the strength of his movements. He could break Q in half without meaning to.

And yet – he wouldn’t. Eve knew that with an intangible type of certainty.

Bond carried Q to Medical with Eve on his heels; he informed them all in no uncertain terms that Q was to be given the highest medical priority available; medical help was supposedly equal for Alphas and Omegas. In practise, Alphas were prioritised by default.

Bond was an Alpha on the verge of murdering another. Medical did precisely what he said without a syllable of question, and would continue to do so if they wanted to stay in one piece.

“And wash that fucking scent off him,” Bond snarled; Eve’s eyes widened. She was relatively certain she’d never heard Bond swear like that before.

Bond was shaking with adrenaline; he stood over Q for another second or so, before rounding on Eve. “You will take protective custody,” Bond told Eve, in a tone that brooked no refusal; for the first time in his life, he was taking a Beta. “I am entrusting his care to you, and only you. You will keep him safe.”

The immensity of that responsibility was in no way lost to Eve; if she failed to look after Q, Bond would kill her. There was no question of that. Betas were traditionally taken to expand a pack, protect the Omegas, who were traditionally unable to defend themselves. Bond had finally conceded that he couldn’t protect Q on his own.

She nodded her agreement, her understanding. Bond leaned forward licked a long stripe up her neck towards her ear, scent marking Eve as Q’s protector. She had been trained as an active agent – Bond trusted nobody more than her to protect Q.

Bond was out of the room in seconds, running, his body burning up with anger and fire. Q was safe. He needed to find 009.

-

Q was struck with the odd sensation that his limbs were not actually his own. Not a sensation he was overwhelmingly fond of, in all honesty.

He quickly assessed himself for damage. Minimal injury; nothing hurt, which was curious. Even the relentless headache had been muted, rendering everything numb, and oddly distant, indistinct.

There were no Alphas in the vicinity. Q knew that as a point of absolute certainty. Everything smelt wrong; the air felt almost cleaned, like somebody had removed the dexterity of empty air, destroying the scent carried on it.

“Q?”

A soft, female voice: Q’s brain took a while to match a name to the voice, far longer to match a face. “Eve?” he asked, opening his eyes, blinded by the obnoxiously bright lights.

Q groaned indulgently, taking in another breath; Eve smelt odd. “You smell of…”

“Bond took me as a Beta,” Eve explained; Q’s eyebrows contracted in something like confusion. Bond had told him once that he would never take a Beta. He had believed that relationships should ‘ _remain within two people, not spread across a damn colony…_ ’

Q gave himself a mental slap; really, in the grand scheme of things, it was such an irrelevant bloody consideration. Bond evidently hadn’t been able to find another option but to take a Beta. “I’m to protect you in Bond’s absence.”

“Why? From what?” Q asked, mildly confused; Bond was technically not his Alpha. By extension, having Eve protecting him as Bond’s Beta was unusual. Bond was creating a pseudo-pack without even having the necessary Omega in place.

“Anything whatsoever that distresses you or harms you,” Eve told him succinctly. Q looked at her. Shrugged. He was not going to deny help from a trained Beta and secret agent if it was offered to him. Bond had decided to do something bizarre, that was his responsibility; Eve was Q's friend, as well as a rather frightening person to cross.

“Why didn’t you tell me about double-oh nine?” she asked quietly, noting the very slight flinch. “This could have been finished before it started.”

“He claimed me. There’s nothing to be done,” Q replied, quite calmly, quite casually.

Eve rolled her eyes; for a genius, Q did suffer from bouts of absolutely crass stupidity. “Bond has gone after double-oh nine, obviously. Did you really think he was going to let this happen?” she asked, unable to believe Q really thought that little of Bond, that he could have failed to appreciate that Bond would end earths for hm.

Q turned white. “Tell me you’re lying,” he rasped. “Alex is half Bond’s age, physically at his peak, and is trying to prove a point. Bond could get badly hurt.”

“Bond intends to kill him,” Eve told him simply. “He’s running on instinct. As strong as double-oh nine can be, I’ve never seen an Alpha like that. Q, he was inches from attacking _me_.”

Q took a moment to process that. For some reason – he didn’t know why – Bond had worked himself up into being practically feral over him. Q had harboured a quiet hope that he had been important, but not like this, not enough for Bond to have this extreme a response.

“And when all this is done. What happens to me, exactly?” Q asked, voice vulnerable, eyes hard. “As I understand it, this is a relatively unusual circumstance.”

Eve couldn’t deny it; she had never heard of a case where a bonded Omega had been claimed by another, and then tried to return to their original Alpha. Traditionally, the original Alpha would have been beaten in combat; usually killed, or at least scared off returning to their Omega.

Bond had never been scared of a damn thing in his life, except for losing Q. The world would end long before Bond gave up on him.

-

“You need to get that door in 002, we’re on a time schedule,” Q said quickly, typing as fast as he could, bringing up windows of CCTV across every screen that Q-branch was constructed of. “I thought I said no Alphas in here?” he asked, feeling his chest constrict unintentionally.

Q had shut off Q-branch to the outside world the previous day. The Q-branch kids were all Betas or Others; Q couldn’t deal with the presence of any Alphas, given the state he was in. While 009 was confirmed as offsite, and with Moneypenny insisting that she act Q's guard all hours of the day and night, Q had taken the opportunity to reclaim the single thing left in his life that meant a damn thing. 

“If you intend to keep me as Quartermaster, Q-branch is going into shutdown for the foreseeable future. I need to work,” he had explained, tone flatly confrontational, suppressing the instinctive deference. "I want no Alphas anywhere near the branch. I will send out colleagues for equipment briefings etc if any Alphas require Q-branch services." 

To Q’s genuine surprise, M had agreed without much argument.

It was a completely unprecedented move. An organisation was restricting Alpha movement for the sake of an Omega. Historically unheard of, and really, quite extraordinary; M was now living in the midst of a politic shit storm of phenomenal proportions.

The arguments over Q’s instalment in MI6 had raged for months, were still raging. In the upper echelons of government, it was deemed irresponsible and moronic; Omegas were admittedly extremely intelligent – but in a position of responsibility, too unpredictable, far too tied to the whims of others.

The previous M had defended her decision to the hilt; Q was truly extraordinary, and after a few months, illustrated that he could maintain his job despite being bonded, let alone an Omega.

Now, the politic circles were moving again. The traditionalists of government wanted Q removed; Q-branch productivity had been negatively affected, and they were looking at the potential loss of a double-oh agent. It seemed an alien concept to condemn 009's actions; they unanimously called for Q's removal.

The upper echelons argued that an Omega shouldn’t have been there as a temptation.

“003, you will be receiving from R from hereon in,” Q said into his headset, with calculated manners and calm, swallowing nervously. The scent of an Alpha - _any_ Alpha – was terrifying on a very basic level. Understandable, and something Q was doing everything in his power to manage.

“How can I help?” he asked levelly. He glanced over M, the papers in his hand, and his eyes darkened. “My office may be more comfortable. Eve will accompany us.”

“Indeed,” M nodded, following Q; Moneypenny, whom he hadn’t actually noticed, moved with them, orientating herself around Q as M closed the door of the office.

Q’s anxiety at being in an enclosed space with another Alpha was invisible, but M did notice Q’s nonchalant amble behind his desk, placing space and obstructions between them. Eve stood midway, silent and still.

“This entire debacle could, and should, have been avoided,” M said simply; Q gestured at the chair opposite, settling warily down himself. “Myself and my predecessor knew the risks of allowing an Omega to take a position like yours.”

Q blinked, but didn’t otherwise respond. Eve heard the implication, and her body stance shifted very slightly, weight redistributing.

“Q, I am entirely of the opinion that you are one of the better things to happen to Q-branch in recent years,” M continued, surprising both Q and Eve; Eve’s posture relaxed, Q managed a vaguely cocky smile. “However. Recent events have led to some problems in-branch…”

“Which are now being dealt with,” Q amended quickly; after spending a few hours in Medical, swearing blind that he was absolutely fine, he had returned to Q-branch to take charge once again. Eve didn’t leave his side once, comforting Q with the echo of a familiar scent. Q worked in a self-contained bubble of his own creation, away from harm.

“I am aware,” M said, tone placating. “I understand the important of Miss Moneypenny in the proceedings, and your entirely understandable need to avoid Alphas. I do, however, need to inform you in person – Bond has fallen off radar, along with 009. At least for now, it is important for us to examine the possibility that you are now an unbonded Omega, with a past that leave you very vulnerable.”

That was grimly understating matters. An unbonded Omega, with shadows of two different Alpha scents, would attract a lot of interest. If nothing else, Alphas would want to know what was so special about Q that he had managed to dispatch two separate Alphas. They would want to find out what was worth fighting over.

Q’s fear was olfactory rather than visible; Eve’s posture shifted again. M knew Miss Moneypenny would be more than capable of removing him, should he distress Q unduly; upon smelling Bond on her, he had released her from her usual job remit. She would stay with Q until Bond said otherwise.

M simply didn’t understand why Bond hadn’t done this sooner. He could have had Q backed up by every Beta in Q-branch; yet he’d left Q unprotected, for whatever reason. The politicians would note that down as a point against Q – his Alpha lost reason, dangerous in a double-oh.

It left M in the unenviable position of defending one Omega against a cabinet of Alphas and Others, all of whom were old enough to still believe that Omegas were intrinsically inferior.

This was one hell of a mess.

“I’m assigning you a security detail,” M said instead; Q’s eyes widened ridiculously. “Others, given that you need neutrality. Miss Moneypenny will, of course, remain. Whichever Alpha returns, we can deal with that situation separately.”

It was that little quirk of phrasing that sent daggers into Q’s stomach. He had been intentionally refusing to contemplate the possibility that Alex could win – that after the progress of the past day or so, he could be returning to Alex. To be honest, Q was relishing having back any independence whatsoever; M had allowed him to essentially block off a building to keep away from Alphas or scents or any more of this nightmare. 

Whoever came back would reclaim him, regardless of anything Q had done. And it was, of course, the one point MI6 could not intervene on, technically speaking – a claimed Omega.

Q truly failed to appreciate that M didn’t really give a flying fuck about technicalities. If Bond came back, there would be a curt discussion on proper care of a vulnerable Omega. If 009 returned, it would need to be established that he treated Q with care, or would find himself removed from active duty. M would not need to break any laws whatsoever. He would merely have to redistribute people as required.

The world was adapting, changing. Q, his brilliance with technology, his innovative take on everything he saw; that was of paramount importance. M had no interest in watching England herself stagnate, steeped in tradition, mouldering. Q could change the face of British Security entirely, if given the opportunity. 

M would be vilified for his decisions, and he didn’t care. The person he once was had been on active duty in warzones, had been on missions where people had taken him to pieces, mentally and physically. He had seen abuse, dictators, cruelty. There were more frightening things in the world than old men in suits.

And nothing more important, it would seem, than a young man in a cardigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very fond of M in this fic. He is a very pragmatic individual in Skyfall; he does what is right, regardless of consequence.
> 
> His place in all of this will get explored in further detail later. Betas, and how 'packs' are formed, are also going to become important. Essentially, this fic is a very long way from over, contrary to all initial intentions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for everybody reading/enjoying! Once again, the comments have been illuminating, and lovely, and challenging, and I love you all tremendously for them.
> 
> Some aspects of this are fairly political, and can be broadly applied to societological issues. Glean at will. Enjoy.

Bond returned to MI6 to find Q-branch in lockdown. Only Q-branch staff were able to come and go freely. There was also a collection of Others who stared at Bond with unguarded suspicion.

“Where’s Q?” Bond asked roughly, hands twitching slightly.

The Others assembled themselves into a loose formation; Bond got the idea that they weren’t intending to allow him access rather quickly. “He is working, and Alphas are not allowed in Q-branch at present,” one of them tells him curtly.

Bond didn’t have the patience for them whatsoever. He rolled his shoulders, prepared to barrel through them if necessary; they adapted according, all four of them trained agents with a specific mission brief. He wouldn’t be able to take down all four of them without sustaining injury, that much was certain.

“ _Q,_ ” he yelled instead, trying to ensure his voice would carry. “Q!”

The Others looked scandalised at the noise levels, but didn’t intervene; Bond was known by reputation if nothing else. Quite frankly, all of them were quietly hoping he would just _leave_ , rather than force them to engage in combat.

After a moment or two, Moneypenny appeared in the entrance to Q-branch. “You can’t disturb him right now, it’s a delicate mission,” she told him apologetically. “He’s safe, James, I promise. M wants to see you in his office. Go, then you can come back, Q will be delighted that you’re not dead.”

“Oh, superb,” Bond muttered; he pinched the bridge of his nose, still looking forward towards Q-branch. He could almost sense Q within, his Omega, and he wanted to see Q more than words could express. He stalked away from Q-branch with notable reluctance.

Apart from anything else, M was going to kill him.

-

“We found 009’s body.”

That was M’s opening gambit. The conversation deteriorated rapidly from there.

Bond had not merely killed 009; that would have been quite easily understood, given the circumstance. No. Bond had killed 009, and _really_ taken his time with it. This went beyond simple Alpha bloodlust, and into the realms of intentional torture and mutilation.

Even for an angry Alpha, there were very few ways of justifying Bond’s actions.

“This has been a complete bloody disaster from the off,” M told him, his anger tangible and absolute. “You have been completely irresponsible concerning Q. Bond, he is a unique case. An Omega as Quartermaster is novel enough as it is, without you attempting an avant-garde form of relationship which leaves him vulnerable.”

“I am very aware of my failings in this,” Bond replied, very quietly, danger evident in his tone. M was far from concerned; Bond could pontificate, threaten, all he liked. The gravity of the situation needed to be impressed upon him regardless, before a situation like this repeated itself.

“I’m not sure you are, quite frankly,” M told him. “You should have considered this far sooner. You need to form a pack, for protection if nothing else.”

Bond did not reply. He sat staring into space, eyes dead; there was a depth of devastation just visible under close inspection, Bond covering it over with dispassion. “I have removed the threat to my Omega,” he said carefully. “I intend to reclaim Q now. This will not happen again.”

“Dare I ask _why_ you were idiotic enough to leave Q without adequate protection?” M asked, genuinely curious but with a sharp tone; they would move onto the subject of what to do about 009 momentarily.

Bond could have explained why, with relative ease; Others, and even Betas to a degree, had relationships. Normal relationships. They could get married, have children, without needing to have others around them. The ‘pack mentality’ was growing antiquated these days, as Alphas and Omegas died out, as their species evolved.

Q had believed in ‘normal’ relationships quite strongly. So did Bond.

They had managed it, for a long while. Bond was an established Alpha; the other active agents, double-oh or otherwise, conceded that. They thrived on their own; they turned their relationship to something based on the positives for either party, rather than the constant obsession with _ownership_.

“I didn’t consider it necessary,” Bond told him instead.

M rolled his eyes. Primary Omegas were always the focus of attention, always the most important being in an Alpha’s life; M understood that better than most. His wife – and primary Omega – was his world. He had taken a secondary Omega to keep her company, and Betas for housework and protection purposes. He loved her completely.

M had the ideal nuclear family, and it _worked_. His wife was protected and loved, two of his Betas were married; they had met other Betas outside M’s family, formed a relationship. They appealed for their partners to join, and M agreed without much upset. The partners kept their old jobs, meaning additional income, and M could keep them all safe.

His situation was normal, and operational. If any member of his family was threatened, it was simple and easy to exact ruthless retaliation.

Bond had entirely failed to think anything through, beyond his love for Q. A rather childish mistake.

“I would also like to point out that I am under pressure to revoke your license to kill, and probably expand that into more serious punishment,” M told him darkly. “You have a reputation of unpredictability, but this…”

“I killed the Alpha who hurt my Omega,” Bond said in a low snarl, utterly unrepentant.

“You took nearly _three days_ to kill him. Bond, it is inexcusable. You tortured him to death.”

To be quite frank, that was almost understating matters. Bond had taken 009 to very small pieces. M had seen the images, and it was actively frightening; the room had been about four yards square, and blood had covered every conceivable surface. Forensics had found it difficult to identity parts of the body.

“Bond, this has been taken out of my hands,” M said quietly. “You need to go to a hearing. Unless you can prove serious extenuating circumstances – and not just that your Omega was taken due to your stupidity – you could lose your job, and given the severity, risk a prison sentence. I will now have to pull ridiculous numbers of strings to keep you out of it, and believe me 007, it is not for your benefit.”

“And Q?” Bond asked, carefully ignoring M’s criticisms. 

“I am taking charge of Q’s welfare, given the situation. He will be safe, and fully protected; I will take it as assumed that you two will imminently be bonded again. If I cannot keep you in MI6, I have no idea. Either way, my interests are with Q, not with you. He is the priority.”

The irony was that had Q been an Other, or even a Beta, he would have been given MI6 security from the outset. Quartermaster was a dangerous job. Yet Omegas were not given security details; their Alphas were expected to fulfil that role, either in person or through a relevant pack. Given the unprecedented situation Q was in, as Quartermaster, nobody had considered his safety in nearly enough detail.

M was acutely aware that this would prey on him. His predecessor had been a formidable woman. The first female M and – quite importantly – an Other. She had the strength of an Alpha, the compassion of an Omega, when required. She had been prepared to put her and Q on the line to get him to Quartermaster; M, now, remembered her with a certain reverence.

He was almost entirely certain she wouldn’t have let this happen on her watch. She understood the strengths and fallacies far better than he did, from her place as an Other. Being an Alpha could be worryingly blinding.

“I want to see him,” Bond interrupted. He had spent too long away from Q as it was. He needed Q back, as a point of urgency, needed to let Q know that he was not being abandoned, and that he was not – would never be – forgotten.

“Well yes, I rather thought as much.”

M couldn’t keep Bond there much longer. His entire body was bending to Q, straining for closeness, contact, to a man on a separate _floor_. “Thank you for your care,” he said tightly; M sighed, waved him away.

Bond was out the door like a shot.

-

The Others fell back deferentially when he came nearer. They continued to look hostile, but appreciated that Bond was not to be interfered with. Bond had waited long enough, quite frankly.

He pushed open the door to Q’s office with the palm of one hand, taking in the small room; it smelt wrong in a way that made a snarl build in his throat, items misaligned in a way that was not Q’s habit. Eve stood near the desk, a sentinel, keeping watch over his Q.

Q looked up. He half smiled, before his expression violently contracted, as though punishing himself for trying to smile. 009’s death was confirmed through one glance at Bond, the victor; the pain from before had vanished entirely, leaving Q free to stare at Bond like a most familiar stranger.

“James,” he said quietly.

Bond was by him in seconds, slipping around Eve’s form to find Q’s. “Eve, could you tell the branch I will be occupied for a little while,” Q asked her carefully; she looked to them both for an unspoken confirmation, before heading to the door and out into Q-branch.

They were alone, finally.

Bond knelt in front of Q’s chair, the younger man watching him with hollow eyes. Both could read the pertinent stories: the anger, the terror, the loss, the pain.

Q’s breath hiccupped when Bond placed a hand on his knee, very gently, no compulsion or command. He slid off his chair to collapse into Bond’s arms, tucked into himself, and wept.

Bond, he could be weak around. With Bond, he could let everything stop for however many minutes, and be. The stresses of the preceding fortnight or so conspired in a haze that Q could not hope to defend himself against, regardless of his usual strength.

The tears dried, of course. Q calmed, Bond’s anger softened. “I’m sorry,” Bond murmured, running a hand through Q’s hair, keeping the young man cradled against him. 

“He’s dead,” Q said, waiting for Bond’s nod as a final confirmation of something he already knew to be true. Q sighed in soft, sad gratitude; Bond was back, Bond had fought for him and _won_. 009 would not touch him again.

Bond tugged Q off him, twisting so he cupped Q’s face in his hands, keeping firm eye contact. “Are you alright?” Bond asked, with as much emphasis as he could possibly pour into the few words.

“No,” Q replied, quite honestly. There seemed no point in lying; Bond would only keep asking. “I will be, I know that, but right now, I’m not even slightly alright. I’m terrified you will leave again, I know M is livid over whatever it was you did to 009, I’m going to give the shrinks down in Medical a bloody _field day_ when M chucks me into their tender loving care, and I don’t know how we’re going get around bonding because jesus, Bond, I never want to have sex again for as long as I live.”

This could be problematic, potentially; Bond could get a special dispensation to allow Q suppressants again, but that could cause as many problems as it fixed. That would at least cover them for heats. The initial bonding, however, would need to occur as soon as possible.

They would find a way around it, simply because they had to.

“You can’t go again,” Q sighed sadly. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but I can’t be on my own again.”

“We’ll need a pack,” Bond said, slightly reluctantly; Q’s forehead creased in upset. He had wanted so badly to be different, removed from the usual constraints of being an Omega; a pack was just conforming, admitting they couldn’t make their relationship work on their own. “I’m sorry.”

Q snorted. “It isn’t your fault. My biology rendered me complicit in my own rape,” he said, half-flippantly, his voice cracking very slightly on the final word. “If it’s anybody’s…”

“It is not your fault,” Bond told him sharply. Q avoided his gaze, nodded; Bond was one of a very few who would agree. Most would contest whether it was even ‘rape’; Omega instincts – lubrication, the inability to fight – prevented rape from being physically damaging, much of the time, and once claimed, it was almost impossible for Omegas to speak ill of their Alphas.

They were trapped in their own biology. ‘Rape’ was a term exclusively used for Betas, or Others. Alphas supposedly couldn’t be raped due to their strength, Omegas due to their biological responses. Alpha rapes were almost never reported, and Omegas faced too much legal difficulty to try.

In any case, claiming muddied the waters yet again. If Bond hadn’t killed Alex, Q would never have managed to do anything legally about him. He would have remained in MI6, even if Q suffered a goddamn breakdown over it; the Alpha took priority over his own claimed Omega.

Not for the first time, Bond quietly thanked several gods for the presence of somebody like M. Common sense, and perspective.

Q froze suddenly, literally stopped breathing.

“Q?” Bond asked, in a sudden surge of panic. “Q, are you alright?”

“You killed 009, correct?” Q rasped, his voice disappearing entirely, closing in on itself. He waited for Bond’s assurance, the conclusion already long since drawn. “Oh my _god_ ,” he murmured.

“Q, what is it?” Bond repeated, trying to get eye contact, trying to get Q’s distanced expression to re-focus.

Q glanced up at him, green eyes cloudy. His next words were enough to shock Bond into mute, appalled silence, Q’s clear voice ringing through his office.

“If you killed 009, then you have inherited his pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, comments, ideas are all welcome - thank you for reading! Apologies for a cliffhanger, I will update as and when I can. Take care :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q is a very masochistic BAMF. I've never written such long speeches for a single character, but there you are.
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading/enjoying/commenting! Take care, enjoy.

Bond was up in seconds. “How large a pack?” he asked in a closed tone, throat feeling oddly dry. Q shifted to his computer, bringing up 009’s records.

“Primary, secondary and tertiary Omegas, seven Betas,” Q said breathlessly. “That’s _huge_.”

Bond was silent for a moment, while Q started downloading images of the Omegas and Betas, his particular attention focusing on the three Omegas. “Q, I’m not keeping them,” Bond said dangerously. “They are not my responsibility.”

Q’s expression was one of breathtaking betrayal. Bond had the horrible feeling Q’s entire perception of him had shifted in that sentence, and quite honestly, Bond wasn’t sure if he would be able to fix that. He didn’t want a pack, and he hadn’t asked for 009’s, and he was not going to take charge when it was nothing to do with him.

“The Omegas will have been claimed,” Q said slowly. “We already know what can happen previously bonded Omegas without an Alpha. The Betas won’t stay without an Alpha telling them to, Betas are free agents, but you can’t leave three Omegas on their own, James, they _are_ your responsibility now.”

“What am I supposed to do with them?” Bond hissed. “I don’t want to bond with them…”

Q let out a broken, fractured sigh, one that stung horribly. 

“James, I don’t think you have a choice,” he murmured. “Talk to them, see what they think, but I just… I can’t see another option.”

“The Omegas…”

“Will not survive for any length of time without an Alpha,” Q completed, head in his hands. “They’ve been abandoned, left unprotected. Try and tell me that you, as an Alpha, would not be at least _interested_ in an Omega like that. We’re left in wills, usually; if our Alpha dies unexpectedly, we’re left to somebody who’ll take over and look after us. You may as well send out all three of them with targets on their heads, if you leave them on their own.”

“I _know_ ,” Bond growled, trying to think, trying to find any goddamn way of getting around this. Asking another Alpha to take over would be badly-received; he was expected to take the pack, no Alpha, friend or not, would understand Bond’s eccentricities on this subject.

Q had stopped moving entirely. He curled into himself slightly more, as though protecting himself from unpleasant thoughts; Bond stood a little distance away, eyes wide, considering the fact that he may have to take on three new Omegas.

Jesus, this had gotten out of hand.

-

“M?” Q asked, appearing in M’s doorway; M looked up, beckoned in the young Quartermaster, invited him to take a seat.

“How can I help?” M asked. Q was looking considerably better already; the pinched, exhausted look of the previous few days had faded out slightly, replaced by a quiet calm that came with familiarity and safety. Interestingly, Bond hadn’t claimed Q yet.

M did, however, note that while Moneypenny was back on her usual job remit, she was watching Q a little too keenly from her desk in the next room. There was another Beta somewhere in Moneypenny’s room too, presumably a secondary guard for Q.

At least Bond was finally taking things seriously.

“Bond and I are being pulled into a hearing over recent events?” Q asked directly; M nodded, quite definitely curious as to where this was likely to go. “I would like to attend, and state my case, without Bond. I am a high-ranking official in MI6; I should have met the Board of Directors a while ago, I'm their _Quartermaster_. I know my status as an…”

“Q, you’re a currently unbonded Omega with two conflicting scents, they will rip you apart,” M told him, without hesitation or apology. “Omegas in your position do not speak to higher Alphas without an Alpha of their own. They will not listen.”

Q, in an impressive feat of self-control, didn’t flinch in the slightest. “I am aware. I will be bringing in two Betas for safety. I would prefer Miss Moneypenny, if you would oblige. M, again, I’m their _bloody_ Quartermaster. They want to take me away from my job, and they have no _idea_ what I’m capable of.”

“Your safety…”

“I will be fine,” Q said firmly. “I will have protection. I _know_ it isn’t conventional.”

M watched him for a long moment. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle. He had received the notes from Medical; patient confidentiality was all very well, but this _was_ MI6. Q had been physically and mentally very damaged by 009; now, he seemed intent on doing something which could be of further danger to him.

It all smacked a little of serious masochism, and perhaps dangerous idealism.

Q gave a sharp, hollow laugh. “Naturally not. I’m suggesting entering a lion’s den of Alphas and Others who believe I shouldn’t have ever been here in the first place. They will argue that I deserved to be raped…”

“You’re not going to try and say that to them?” M asked, with genuine alarm; Q simply raised an eyebrow. He was not going to spare other people’s sensibilities, not on something like this. “Q, I will not be held responsible, and I have no idea if you’ll be able to keep your job at the end of it.”

“I will deal with that,” Q told him, with bravado he didn’t even faintly feel. He didn’t want to lose his job, but god _damn it_ , he didn’t want to let this lie. He didn’t want to feel helpless, just another Omega victim, left to be rendered unimportant by all concerned.

He was more than that, by such a great degree.

“Your funeral,” M shrugged, hands up. He would have to wash his hands of this; Q was intent on doing something idiotic, which could jeopardise Bond and himself, quite neatly.

Q nodded, and left.

-

The exhaustion felt never-ending. It sunk through everything, making motion slow to nothingness, gestures feel infinite and interminable. It never stopped. Words came to a gasping stop before articulation, the senses of loss and hurt and so much _guilt_ rendering him immobile.

Q was shattered, but mending as he could. Bond was whole, but falling apart.

-

“As I understand it, we are here to discuss the behaviour and actions of agent 007,” Q announced to the board. He stood at the head of the table, a few papers in his hands to distract him, give him something to fidget with as he tried to construct an argument in a room that _reeked_ of Alphas.

“You’re his Omega, are you not?” asked a hostile voice; Q focused on it, his gaze neutral and non-confrontational.

“Yes,” he replied calmly; a low rumble travelled along the room. “I am here both in that capacity, and as his senior operative. Bond is being questioned over his actions concerning a contesting Alpha. Double-oh nine raped me.”

The rumbles mutated into all-out cries; ‘rape’ was a strong word, an emotive word, and not a word for Omegas. Omegas were claimed or bonded with; rape implied fault on the part of the Alpha, something unconscionable.

“I use the word advisedly,” Q continued, still very calm. “The injuries sustained would have constituted a rape charge in the case of an Other or Beta. My Alpha was still living, and there had been no dialogue concerning a reclaim. Double-oh nine repeatedly raped me over the space of approximately a week. Quite frankly, I believe double-oh seven showed considerable restraint.”

“An Omega behaving the way you do is asking for trouble,” another voice snarled; Q felt the wave of pheromones, calm beginning to die back a little in the face of blatant want.

To his left, Eve shifted slightly, reminding Q that she was still there, that he was protected.

Q took another breath, and continued on. “I did nothing to spark 009’s interest in me, other than my biology. 007 and I did have an unconventional relationship, certainly, but for eighteen months, we had no problems whatsoever. Our relationship cannot be blamed, given that every other Alpha in MI6 somehow demonstrated self-restraint, _including_ on long missions.

Concerning my behaviour after 009 became involved, I believe my behaviour under the circumstances was exemplary – if an Other or Beta had been raped, I believe it is fair to say they would not be expected to remain in work. While my own personal involvement in branch operations was admittedly reduced, the calibre of work from my branch remained consistent.

I am not going to waste breath justifying my appointment as Quartermaster; the work from Q-branch speaks for itself. As for Bond, he is by far the best active agent we possess, I would strongly suggest bearing that in mind in your decisions.”

There was an odd, disconnected silence. For most in the room, it was quite possibly the longest single speech any of them had ever heard from an Omega; instinctively, the Alphas started producing pheromones. The desire to dominate, to take, triggered by a strong Omega.

Q’s vanguard shifted slightly, and began to tense.

-

“Where’s Q?” Bond asked M directly. He was rather tired of going through secondary sources to find information; he barged into M’s office, and started speaking without so much as an exchanged pleasantry.

M gave a harassed sigh. “So I am assuming you left your unbonded Omega on his own?” he asked, more to prove a point than anything else; Bond stared at him, waiting for a more sane answer. “I’m assuming he didn’t tell you that he’s speaking to the Board of Directors, arguing both your and his cases?”

“Without permission, or an accompanying Alpha?” Bond asked, for clarity; M’s expression was that of resigned incredulity, and a desire to keep the hell out of any of this as it continued to unravel. Bond gave a snarl of anger.

M told him where the Board was meeting, and watched Bond storm away, muttering under his breath: “This would be so much _easier_ if my bloody Omega wasn’t suicidal…”

-

Q had done the equivalent of walking into a lions den, and poking at the most vicious ones with a pointed stick.

He therefore felt entirely justified in taking a handful of steps back, his Betas moving to flank him more closely. The danger of this situation was not unexpected, but unpleasant regardless; the smell was rapidly becoming too much, playing with Q’s sense of control, throwing him back and back to memories of 009 and a smell that was not Bond’s.

Q had never _needed_ Bond quite so much. Dispatching his Alpha to speak to the newly inherited pack had been calculated, deliberate, and in retrospect not the greatest of ideas for Q’s panic levels. 

“An upstart Omega believes himself indispensible?” asked a board member, rhetorically. The low laughs bounced around the small room.

Q cleared his throat, waited for them all to still. “I _know_ I am indispensible. Any of you who have seen any data from my branch will know that is true,” Q told them, his heart in his throat, anger and terror conspiring to lend his voice gravity. “If you doubt me as an Omega, consider that myself – and Lisa, the only other Omega who worked in Q-branch – managed the best results in the shortest time span, and saved you money. What we are quibbling here is not my aptitude, but the behaviours of Alphas.”

Too far. Q realised he had taken it too far with that closing sentence. There was an almost universal hiss; the Others were prepared to keep the peace, but the Board was mostly run by conservative Alphas. _Shit_ , Q thought quietly to himself, literally able to hear Eve’s angry commentary, in her head, at the stupidity of what he had just done. They were going to kill him. _Fuck_.

“We need to confer,” a quiet voice intoned, from the right hand side of the table, near the far end, Q didn’t quite see who it was. Q took it as his dismissal, leaving the meeting with as much poise he could physically muster.

The moment he was out of sight or earshot, he came very close to collapse. He angled himself into a chair, limbs splaying inelegantly as he tried to rearrange himself, not even vaguely concentrating on his body while his mind whirled.

“That was the single most idiotic thing I’ve ever seen anybody do,” Eve told him frankly,, furiously; Q stared at the opposite wall, brain freezing around what he had just said. He was going to lose his job. There was no hope in _hell_ of them keeping him on as Quartermaster after that display.

He was still frozen in place by the time Bond reached him; voices rushed around him, Q not listening to a single damn one. “Q?” Bond asked, hands slipping around his Quartermaster’s. “Q, look at me.”

The command of an Alpha: Q looked up instantly, the familiar rush of calm that came with obeying his Alpha, cracking open the freeze that had pulsed since leaving the meeting.

“I think I’ve blown everything,” Q murmured breathlessly. “I criticised the behaviour of Alphas.”

“… After bandying the word ‘rape’ around, and heavily implying that Omegas are superior for Q-branch work,” Eve supplemented, biting her fingernails in a very unusual show of anxiety; Q cringed slightly at Bond’s expression.

"What's happening in there now?"

"Conferring. They don't want to speak to you Bond, they're taking Q's little demonstration as your argument," Eve spat; she had yet to calm down about it. Exceptionally high-stress situations were rarely good for Betas, they needed a fair degree of time to let the rush of hormones die down.

“I’m sorry,” Q said quietly, Bond’s hands still warm, encircling his own. “I didn’t mean to be a campaigner, I didn’t… I didn’t _want_ to end up doing this…”

“Nobody does, I don’t think,” Bond said calmly, trying to soothe Q while being acutely aware of the possible consequences. Q was half-shaking; an Omega speaking like that to an Alpha was a bloody stupid idea, speaking like to a Board of Directors in MI6 stood a decent chance of Q mysteriously vanishing, if he pissed them off enough. Eve knew that, hence her instinctive panic over the entire affair.

“James, what if…”

“We will fix it,” he replied, before Q had adequately formed a sentence. “If you’re made to leave MI6, we’ll get you in with the CIA or as a freelancer," Bond snorted at Q's expression; alright, perhaps Q wouldn't condescend to CIA, but freelancing had possibilities. "It won’t stop you being an extraordinary computer technician. There _will_ be a way of dealing with this.”

Q nodded to himself, letting Bond's words comfort him despite his best intentions. He abruptly remembered: “009’s pack?”

Bond watched Q carefully. “They’re quite a formed pack,” Bond explained; Q hung on his words, trying not to betray how important this was to him. “The Betas will stay with the Omegas, they’re very close. The tertiary Omega…”

“Lisa, her name’s Lisa,” Q interjected, still exceptionally pale.

“… she wants to return to Q-branch, if possible. It’s easy to establish protection here if we need, but that will require bonding. Whichever way you look at it Q, I think I need to bond with them.”

Q wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t stop staring at the wall. He would remember the lacings of cracks, broken plaster, stains and scuff marks across the skirting board, for the rest of his life, an echoing afterimage when he closed his eyes, an image in tandem with the constant thoughts.

Bond needed to bond with _three_ Omegas. The irony was devastating, breathtaking. They wanted monogamy, and were now teetering on the verge of what would technically be a ten plus strong pack, once Eve and Q-branch were involved.

“Q,” a curt voice said, from behind them; Q took as steady a breath as he could feasibly manage, Bond squeezing his hands encouragingly. _We will fix it_.

Q smiled quite perfectly, everything constructed so beautifully without a single flaw - he couldn't bear to betray himself, not after everything he'd done. “Thank you,” he murmured, and re-entered the boardroom with Bond’s smell lingering around him, protecting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q is a little bit of an idiot, but at least manages to remain true to himself. I'll update when I can.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very difficult chapter, both to write, and for the characters concerned - the overall effect is very bittersweet. Hope you enjoy it. Jen.

Bond waited outside, pacing.

Twenty minutes later, Q re-emerged, looking stunningly pale. “Q, what happened?” Bond asked sharply, reaching to Q, waiting for Q to finally look at him. The green was oddly unfocused. “Talk to me.”

“You’re still an active double-oh agent,” Q said disconnectedly. “I’m on probation as Quartermaster, with the understanding that you’ll claim me, and establish full protection in the case of your absence. If I get re-instated, of course.”

“This is bullshit,” Eve stormed. “They have no grounds other than bloody _bigotry_. Your branch will vouch for…”

“The Others certainly will, the Betas will be less predictable when faced with angry Alphas,” Q supplemented, Bond wrapping his arms around the young Omega. “Jesus. I didn’t think this would actually happen, you know? I thought… jesus, I don’t know _what_ I thought.”

There was nothing that could be said; Bond ran fingers through Q’s long hair, kissed his hairline, breathed him in. Q had deserved so much better than this, and Bond had found himself entirely unable to supply it.

-

Q was catatonic.

“Eat something,” Eve told him; she waved takeaway at him, her portion long since eaten while Q just stared at the ceiling. He had refrained from tears, or anything similar. He lay motionless, unwilling to even open his laptop, blinking languorously, seeing nothing at all.

Eve watched him for a few minutes, the curry growing progressively colder. “I have carte blanche to force you to eat, if necessary,” she warned; quietly, she was beginning to worry. Q hadn’t so much as twitched in the last fifteen minutes, only the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest any indication that he was still alive.

“Q, I know this is hard…”

“You have no fucking idea,” Q said brokenly, his voice a whiplash. “You have no idea, Eve, so kindly fuck off.”

Eve took a breath. It was all very well being commanded to take care of Bond’s Omega – and to be honest, she had always been fond of Q – but really, when afore-mentioned Omega was being _quite_ such a nightmare, it became harder to prevent murderous tendencies.

“There isn’t another option…”

“Yes, I _know that_ , I have examined the various options, somewhat unsurprisingly,” Q shot back at her. He still hadn’t moved, the only different a sudden surge of tension along the visible lines of his body. “That doesn’t make this any fucking easier to deal with.”

“He’ll be back in a few hours,” Eve said, tone placatory.

Q’s laugh was hollow, horribly empty. “Yes, having fucked three other people by necessity. He’s my partner, Eve, and I know nobody believes that Omegas and Alphas can have actual _care_ beyond our _fucking_ biology, and our obvious links. I know nobody thinks love exists for us but _jesus_ Eve, I _do_ genuinely love the man, and this is _killing me_.”

Eve stayed very still, watching Q’s face and body crumple like paper, trying to re-flatten itself, the creases still too apparent. “He loves you too,” Eve murmured gently. “This is hard for him too, he knows how much you care for him, and...”

Q took a shallow, gasping breath. “I know that,” he breathed, cutting over Eve’s ineffectual words. “ _That’s_ what’s killing me.”

-

Bond stared at himself in a bathroom mirror, looking into his own eyes, and seeing no ending, seeing _nothing_. Somehow, somewhere, he had ceased to truly exist; his shell lingered, impressing itself in unknown places and fermenting, fossilising, becoming imprinted so entirely he can never be forgotten.

For the first time in his life, he would give blood for the ability to simply vanish. Remove himself, his legacy, from the world. Everything and everyone, from Vesper – the lonely Other he’d believed he could keep – to Q, the only Omega he’d ever truly wanted; they could all have lived without him, their lives taking on an utterly different trajectory.

Vesper would still be alive. Q would not be hurt. Q would still be _Quartermaster_. Possibly.

Alphas were supposed to have the easiest lives. If an Alpha turned off any mental evolution, any _humanity_ , yes – it was simple. Their instincts led them to find the best course of action, regardless of consequence for the ‘lesser beings’ around them. Alphas were bred to survive. Humanity had made them weak, and Bond was the ultimate illustration of that.

Q had wanted so very much. A life and a future unique to them. Bond had failed his Omega, his partner; he had failed as an Alpha, at the only duty they truly had. To protect, to love, to keep safe.

Bond liked to think Q loved him _because_ he was not like other Alphas. He was once one of the rawest, most powerful Alphas in MI6; he exuded strength, confidence, potent pheromones that could knock most Omegas sideways. Yet Q saw more than simply that. Q had denied Alphas before, he could have easily done the same with Bond – and didn’t.

Bond couldn’t breathe, choking on air saturated with the scent of Omegas.

-

The door of the flat opened; Eve moved to her feet, prepared to leave the pair of them alone. She raised an eyebrow at Bond, and he shook his head; he was not going to discuss it quite yet. He glanced at Q’s motionless form, and Eve just shrugged sadly. A nod.

Eve shut the door behind her with a gentle click.

“It’s done,” Bond said in a rasping tone, eyes utterly dead.

Q, three Omegas, another four inherited Betas. Miss Moneypenny, plus another couple of Q-branch Betas. Bond’s pack now spanned to eleven people.

The silence broke like water over their heads, drowning them. Q still hadn’t moved; a single glance at Bond had confirmed the obvious, a cursory shower insufficient to hide the evidence of several hours with others.

Bond had slept with infinite numbers of people before. The distinction was in that he had never bonded fully with anybody but Q; he avoided trysts with Omegas, kept himself to Others and Betas in great abundance, because they passed the time. He had the occasional dalliance with an Omega, but they tended to die shortly afterwards by virtue of being met in the field; Bond had never taken a true Omega as he had Q.

This evening had been the most emotionally destructive of Bond’s lifetime. Three Omegas, all accustomed to 009, waiting for Bond to do whatever he wanted.

Everything had been established earlier that day. Bond sought out the pack, living in 009’s flat and next door. The arrangement was simple; the three Omegas lived in 009’s flat, protected by four Betas. The other three Betas – further protectors, and as far as Bond could work out, sex toys – lived in the other flat.

They congregated in 009’s living room, watching the man who had taken over their pack. The four Betas who lived in the main flat split to protect the Omegas; they had known one another for years, the primary Omega acquired almost five years previously. The tertiary Omega – Q’s colleague, and vaguely recognisable to Bond – was startlingly alone, watching Bond through huge eyes.

Bond had stated his case. The reactions varied; it became obvious where the true loyalties lay, which made matters simpler. The three Betas who resided in the next-door flat were 009’s afterthoughts; they were able to have their own jobs, livelihoods, on the condition that they stayed.

When Bond offered them freedom, they accepted without question.

The Omegas were the sticking point. Everybody knew the situation; Bond would not leave them to their own devices, but ultimately, had no interest in an expanding pack.

The secondary Omega ultimately found a solution that was mutually agreeable. There was a general concurrence that Bond would need to bond with all three Omegas, regardless of what happened after that point, if he had any interest in their safety.

Thus Bond had returned that evening.

All had seemed rather surprised at Bond’s reluctance, despite Bond’s earlier explanations. The primary – a young man with beautifully blue eyes, and a wonky smile – tried to make it easier, taking some aspects of a lead, thanking Bond quietly afterwards with true sincerity.

The secondary was equally grateful, but did a slightly less adept job at hiding her reluctance; she had changed hands before, 009 defeating her young and rather inexperienced Alpha without effort. The sex was perfunctory and mercifully quick.

The tertiary had only been with 009 for a handful of weeks. She cried. Bond was as gentle as he could possibly manage, willing his body to respond faster, respond _better_ , make this easier somehow.

He scent marked the Betas who intended to stay; they submitted without any issues, by far the easiest part of the night. Given Bond’s behaviour, their loyalty was a relatively certain matter; they would protect their Omegas to the ends of the earth, as they had done for years previously.

“Is he ok?” Lisa – the tertiary Omega – asked when Bond was leaving, voice quiet. Bond looked at her for a long moment; she was so young, so fragile. Her intelligence was drawn in her inflexions and her fingers – an understated asset to Q-branch.

Bond nodded slowly. “I would hope you’ll see him in branch soon,” he replied carefully, praying it would be true.

He closed the door on the pack that was now his, and he shattered. He made it home through sheer willpower, needing Q – more than that, he needed to explain the situation properly.

“Q, I’m not doing anything like that again.”

Q slowly, anxiously, unknotted himself. Bond watched him, looking more frightening than Q had ever seen him before; there was a bleak vulnerability that overwhelmed everything.

“What are you intending long-term?” he asked, his tone flint.

Bond didn’t look away for so much as a second. “The two Omegas will need to be provided for. The Betas have part-time jobs, the Omegas haven’t been in a work environment in years… I’ll supplement the income, as long as there are two Betas with the Omegas they’ll be fine for protection. Other than that… Q, I’m planning to leave them alone.”

Q stared at him blankly.

“What?” he asked eventually, when Bond didn’t elaborate.

“Let them live their own lives,” Bond explained, almost flippantly, as though this _wasn’t_ one of the more revolutionary concepts Q had heard recently. “They’ll stay bonded to me, under my protection and my help. I will be involved _if_ required, but… they’re a tight group. The Betas won’t let anything happen to them.”

“And Lisa?”

“I’ll confirm with M, but I’m allowing her back to work – so she’ll be returning to Q-branch. I have Betas loyal to me there for your benefit, I’m sure one of them will be happy to protect her. I’ll keep them safe, but I don’t want a pack, and god _damn it_ , I’m not going to have one.”

Q was literally watching Bond break down; the man trembled, close to collapse. Bond was the person nobody expected to crack; it made his damage all the more distressing, as he sank to the floor on his knees, tilting to rest his head on an armchair.

Remaining catatonic was simply not an option. Q struggled to his feet, toppling next to Bond, trying to offer some gentle, familiar form of comfort. 

There was nothing that could possibly be said.

Bond felt disgusting, and Q could not say a word to help him. It was the only possible solution, which really, lent sod all comfort to either party. None of the Omegas, nor Bond himself, had wanted sex. There were myriads of curses that could be poured on the situation. They wouldn’t change anything.

Q nestled his head on Bond’s chest, still unable to close his eyes. Bond’s motions were slow, unsteady, entirely unlike him; Q felt a stinging rush of sadness as the hesitant embrace encircled him fully.

“You’ve done an extraordinary thing,” Q murmured, nudging Bond’s shoulder slightly. “James, you’ve essentially given three claimed Omegas back their freedom. It’s extraordinary. You’re making history.”

“I cannot express how low that is on my list of priorities,” Bond told him, voice quiet, inches from shattering. The tone was horrific, Q almost wincing at the damage laced through him. “I’m so sorry, Q.”

“Don’t be,” Q replied quietly. “James, you came back for me. You’re still here. You ripped another Alpha to shreds in the most literal sense possible, risking everything for me. You saved three lives today. Don’t you dare be sorry.”

“You know I love you, Q?”

Q’s breath hesitated slightly, as though in suspense. A truth he already held, but now had final proof of, a talisman he could keep with him. Bond’s voice was both impersonal and soft, the oceanic vulnerability tiled over with brittle slate.

Q nodded, face upwards, breathing in the pure, untarnished scent around Bond’s neck, breathing it, trying to absorb every molecule of it. “Yes,” he whispered, eyes closed, stars dancing behind closed eyelids as his cheek caressed soft skin. “And I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - I love hearing what people think, so go crazy. Updates will happen as I can. Jen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very hard to write. I hope I've done it justice. Thank you again to everybody reading and enjoying, it means the world.

The situation was becoming impossible.

After all that had happened, it seemed cruelty of the highest degree that the most difficult aspect of all of this was still pending. It was their final hurdle, the last part of this before they could truly rebuild their lives.

Bond had to claim Q. Q was terrified at the prospect of having sex, after everything that had happened. Bond was equally unwilling to have sex in the immediate future, given the nightmare of pulling together his new-found pack.

Neither of them had the faintest idea of how to get around it.

Q was still on suspension from MI6 – according to M, he would remain so until such a time as they bonded. It was too dangerous for Q to remain unbonded, given the situation as it stood; the Board also wanted to know Q was under somebody’s control.

As always, the relationship between Bond and Q had been severely underestimated. Not very surprising, but really, it would have been nice if somebody in authority tried to appreciate their situation. Even M didn’t understand; he had the good grace to respect their decision, but it was a small comfort.

They had to bond, before somebody else tried to take Q instead – Bond would be left without a leg to stand on, if he didn’t claim Q imminently and somebody else beat him to it. Yet even with that threat lingering, swollen, over their heads, neither wanted to hurt the other.

Bond kissed Q slowly, explorative. Q even tried to kiss back, before Bond felt Q’s body shake slightly.

He started backwards, fast enough nearly knock over a chair. Q remained utterly motionless, expression frighteningly dead, crying blankly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving dream-like to the sofa, crumpling himself into it, numb.

Bond slammed a fist against the doorframe, and swore under his breath when he noticed Q’s subtle, hiccupping flinch at the sudden noise.

-

“Bond, we’re running out of time,” Q murmured, voice pained, apologetic. “Q-branch need me, and I… I can’t keep avoiding this, or thing will get worse, and…”

Q’s voice was steady, posture fragile. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you?” Bond asked quietly, hands on Q’s knee. 

The younger man half-shrugged, looking so much sadder than anybody his age should have cause to be. “That isn’t really the point, is it?” he told Bond, still very quiet. He let out a long sigh. “I’m not going to lose you again, James. I can’t.”

Bond nodded. He uncurled his fingers from his palm, extending it for Q to take, if he wanted. Q’s thin, cold fingers laced with him. “It’ll be ok,” Bond told him soothingly. Q mouth twitched in an almost-smile, and he nodded; there was little else he could do.

Both of them tried to relax. Bond led Q by the hand into the bedroom, Q settling himself at the far end by the headboard, watching Bond with a tension-riddled gaze. He shifted his weight unconsciously when Bond sat next to him, moving back, away from him.

“Q…”

“It’s ok,” Q said firmly, and shuffled closer to Bond, his smile semi-genuine, certainly making a tremendous effort. He leaned forward slightly, placed a kiss against Bond’s lips.

Bond kissed him back, very gentle. He didn’t ask Q to lead, nor was he overwhelming himself; he tried to keep everything so Q could stop it if he needed. He had done the same with the other Omegas, doing everything possible to try and keep them from panicking, or getting upset.

Being this close to his Omega, unbonded; his body responded passionately and immediately, a clawing need to mate making itself known. The kisses became more instinctive, Q’s body adapting itself as Bond’s hands started to range over his body.

As they shifted closer, Q felt Bond’s erection. 

Bond’s heart broke when Q gave a soft, swallowed whimper, but didn’t move away. 

Instead, Bond’s nerve broke; he pulled away, breathing hesitantly. His body was screaming for more, telling him he needed to take Q, finally bond with him, claim him properly. Trying to stop himself – an Alpha in the midst of sexual contact with an unbonded Omega – was almost impossible.

Bond was good at the impossible. He walked out the room as fast he could manage, leaving a confused and oddly relieved Q on the bed, almost in tears.

-

“I don’t want to rape you,” Bond snapped at him. “I can’t do this, Q, I can’t. I will not be responsible for doing this to you.”

“James, I don’t know if I’ll ever want this,” Q said frankly. “I may never. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this, and we don’t have that choice, we can’t wait and see, because otherwise some other bastard _will_ claim me. No, this is not going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to us, but we will get through this, because we have to. Do you understand?!”

Bond threw himself towards Q, kissing him deeply. Q panicked for a matter of seconds, before his body released all stress altogether, leaving him motionless. “I love you,” Bond told him again, because really, there were no other words that were even vaguely relevant, and certainly none that would help.

Q nodded, kissed Bond of his own volition. “I know.”

-

They curled against one another on their bed, trying to make it seem natural that they were about to have sex, and somehow not managing to capture it. Every move was fraught with tension, with fear; fear of hurting, fear of hurting the other. Both of their bodies were easily coerced.

It was their minds that were taking longer, were far harder to control. Q kept himself from flinching, Bond kept himself there at all, and they awkwardly, lovingly, tried again.

Q was proactive to begin with, which was certainly a help. He smiled at Bond’s body as he always did when seeing it naked, admiring the shapes of toned muscle and battle-worn skin, fingers tracing along the scar in his shoulder, along the perfectly defined arms, while Bond helped Q shoulder off the cardigan, fingers working at the buttons.

Bond had to take over when it came to Q’s trousers and underwear; he tried, but Q couldn’t stop himself from remembering. Bond kissed him, whispered soothing words, waiting for the tension to drain away before each movement. It took a while, but Q was ultimately left naked, Bond following suit.

Q’s eye widened in shock as he shifted Q upwards, letting him slide under the covers. “May be hot, but you’ll feel less exposed,” Bond said simply; Q gratefully wound his body against Bond’s naked one, feeling oddly protected despite himself.

It was too hot, but it didn’t matter. Bond took the time to coax Q’s own erection, let Q whine slightly with want, hips moving despite himself. Bond’s hand settled on Q’s hip – noting the slight hitch of tension in the muscle, before travelling further around.

He didn’t do anything for a moment, just cupped Q’s arse, let the young man tremble against him, eyes screwed shut.

Bond was going blind with need. More frustratingly, Q was too, but neither of them could get through their own heads. Their bodies were pushing them closer; Bond wanted to be inside the boy, wanted to permeate every inch of his body with his scent, take him completely. Q’s body sought out Bond’s pheromones as it had from the start, all those months ago, the scent to break through Q’s established life as self-sufficient Beta and cause them to end up together.

Regardless, Bond took his time. He shifted Q so he was lying on his back, knees bent; one hand wrapped around his cock, stroking too softly, very insistently. Enough to make him frantic, not enough to let him come.

The other hand played around his wet entrance, before a finger slid inside.

Q stopped breathing, eyes flying wide to fix on Bond as though he would vanish, keeping Bond there to avoid 009's image replacing him. Bond hushed him soothingly, plastering over 009’s bites with kisses, gentle nips of his own, covering Q’s throat. Q was _his_ , and he was perfectly meticulous in covered Q’s skin with _him_.

Bond’s shoulder twinged in pain as Q’s fingers dug into it, tethered him, kept him from running away again. They could not stop; if they made it that far, stopping would be agonising for Bond as an Alpha. The point of no return had long since passed, was receding rapidly.

“ _James…_ ” Q said breathlessly, as Bond’s hand twisted around his cock, making him whine while a second finger slid in. “I…”

Another hush from Bond, lips against the shell of Q’s ear, sending goosebumps down the entirety of Q’s left arm. “Trust me,” Bond asked; Q nodded without hesitation. Of all people, he trusted Bond. There was nobody else he possibly could. “I won’t hurt you.”

Q nodded, eyes wide, Bond treating him like a beautiful, delicate piece of glass. It was both lovely, and not so much; he felt cherished, certainly, but it bordered on being patronising. He wanted this to feel okay, he wanted to enjoy being with James like he always had done in the past, and _hated_ that he couldn't.

“Look at me,” Bond asked him, waiting for Q’s eyes to fix on him. “Just at me. Good. Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me, Q, just with me.”

Q nodded, as Bond tugged him up, Q’s legs around Bond’s waist. It was a good thing he was so light; it took minimal effort to lift him, moving them closer together. Bond kept careful, constant eye contact; he read Q best that way, could see everything playing across his features in perfect detail.

“I’ve got you,” Bond murmured, as his cock nudged against Q’s entrance. He noted the slight shine of tears, of panic, the tense set of his jaw as he fought against himself. “My beautiful Q. It’s okay. Really. It’ll be okay.”

Q brushed a kiss onto Bond’s forehead, confirming that he was alright, and let Bond pull him down slowly, gently. Q could control everything if he needed to in terms of pace; he couldn’t help the stuttering hiccup of panic as his body adapted to Bond’s knot, preventing him from escaping.

“Shh, my Q,” Bond soothed, letting Q adapt, Q’s head curling into the side of Bond’s neck as he shuddered, staying very still. Bond’s arm held him around the waist, the other curved over his head, as though trying to protect him. “Are you alright?”

After a moment, Q nodded against him, breath hot against Bond’s ear; Q’s spine rolled as he experimentally shifted, Bond groaning at the sensation.

Q’s kiss was uncoordinated and desperate, Bond cradling the younger man’s body in a way that was barely sexual, moving his hips slowly, Q’s wet, tight body squeezed around him, Q's hips gyrating faintly.

“ _More_ ,” Q suddenly whispered, as though ashamed to admit it. Bond gently twisted Q so he could see his face again, read him properly; Q’s pupils were blown, teeth worrying at his bottom lip as though trying to restrain himself. Bond’s palm travelled between their bodies, finding Q’s cock again, fingers closing around it and making Q gasp.

The pace became quicker, Bond angling himself as best he could while losing his mind to fogginess; he was bonding, he was taking his Omega back, his body screaming to illustrate in garish, ugly detail how entirely _his_ Q was, wanting to violently eliminate all echoes of somebody else. He stayed careful, controlled, fighting off the fog to ensure Q didn't panic.

Q, too, was nestled around Bond’s neck; the scent was impossibly potent there, threading through him comfortingly, the effect almost sedating. He was bonding with an Alpha; he would be looked after, guarded, protected. His body relaxed, letting him enjoy it as he deliberately inhaled as much of Bond as he could.

Bond’s thrusts became more confident, working in perfect counterpoint with the hand around Q’s cock. “ _James_ ,” Q cried, almost plaintively, shudders rippling through his body, muscles jumping under Bond’s hands. Bond bit the side of his neck as Q came jerkily, the semi-rhythmic spasms around Bond’s cock sending his vision white.

The numb, warm sensation was surprisingly welcome. Unlike 009, Bond kept Q carefully supported, letting the younger man nuzzle against him, arms close to his chest, fingers tugging, nerveless, at Bond’s bare skin.

Bond’s knot descended slowly, their bodies locked inextricably. Neither spoke. When he could, Bond gently slid out of Q’s pliant body, letting the younger man collapse, catching him before he falls.

Q pressed himself against Bond’s body, as Bond pulled the duvet over them, cocooning them from the outside world. Q’s slim body remained moulded against Bond’s, physically and emotionally exhausted, letting the instinctive need to be close to his Alpha override every other thought.

The scent lingered, not overpowering, just a reminder; they have finally bonded. Q is safe, their relationship is _safe_.

“Thank you,” Q breathed, Bond brushing kisses against his closed eyelids, flicking off the light with one hand before returning to Q.

“Are you alright?” he asked eventually, through the new-found darkness.

Q shrugged slightly, unevenly. It was too complex a question to easily answer. Bond seemed to understand; he relaxed a little, the arms circling Q casually possessive, Q submissive in a way Bond rarely saw from him, the young Omega an open wound.

Exchanging words was pointless. They stayed fixed together, Q eventually managing to fall asleep, Bond wrapped around him, a shell, an exoskeleton. 

Bond stayed awake for a while longer, breathing steadily, staring into the almost-blackness of their bedroom with a distant expression, head spinning with Q, with other Omegas, with everything he had done for the sake of the young man sleeping in his arms.

Never again. He would _never_ let this happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments etc are always incredibly appreciated, thank you again to the glorious creatures who have already done so.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, an ending.
> 
> Thank you to the multitudes of people who challenged, supported, helped developed this 'verse. It's been one hell of an experience. To the impossible multitudes of people who've subscribed, left kudos, keep reading - wow. This is my most popular AO3 fic now. You guys are amazing.
> 
> Take care, all.

Q didn’t ask permission to come back to work.

He turned up at MI6, hijacked the security systems remotely, installed himself back in Q-branch, and radioed up to M that he wasn’t leaving unless they had a quantifiable reason to fire him. Bond, meanwhile, assembled the Betas he had dotted through Q-branch, ensuring they were prepared for any attacks against Q. Given Q-branch rotas, there would be at least two Betas around to look after Q at all times.

Eve was a backup – and after a while, Bond removed her from the pack. Her priorities were to her job, and to MI6; Bond knew she could not be depended on long-term to look after Q. They parted with Eve’s quiet assurance that she would be there for Q, as part of Bond’s pack or not – Bond was faced with the rather unfamiliar realisation that he had a _friend_.

Bonded, Q’s confidence grew again; Bond watched Q go from strength to strength, taking back his branch from a rather overambitious R with Bond’s full support for the endeavour.

The calmer aspects of Bond’s personality were beginning to come through again; the constant, terrifying anger of losing Q, of watching Q be hurt, was settled as he spent more time with his Omega, the pair readapting to being together.

The upper echelons of government were unapologetically livid at Q’s continued role as Quartermaster; to add insult to injury in their eyes, Q penned a long piece detailing the comparative strength of Q-branch post his appointment, with several attached addendums about the use of Omegas in high-stress job roles. Q was literally better adapted for the role than Alphas, or even Betas; anxiety and stress played a lesser role, reactions based on logic rather than instinct.

The reaction was not positive. M had a short, sharp conversation with Q about the use of tact where superior government officials were concerned.

Despite it, there was one little aspect that could not be denied: Q and Bond had altered something, changed something. The way they operated was entirely new, starting a wave of developments across MI6, into the government, out into other families and friends and packs.

Q-branch began it. The sight of a bonded Omega – Lisa – living her own life, with a couple of Betas for protection, was unheard of. She didn’t live with her Alpha, was merely scent-marked occasionally, no more than a Beta might have; she was independent, in practise.

Nobody had ever seen anything like it before. 

Equally, Bond’s other two Omegas, from 009’s pack, had their own lives; Alice – the secondary Omega in 009’s pack – went into banking, becoming a trader for the Royal Bank of Scotland. It was a common occupation for unbonded Omegas, highly cerebral; high-stress, but then, Omegas could handle it.

There was a legal loophole that allowed bonded Omegas, in work, to keep a Beta for protection if their Alpha requested it. Jeremy, one of the Betas, was more than happy to oblige; Bond requested, and confirmed, that Alice could have Jeremy for protection at all times while at work.

The trading floor was in shock. A female, bonded Omega, working, no Alpha in sight; most of her colleagues weren’t even sure who he was, had never seen her with an Alpha.

The ripples continued to spread.

“Q, I have a mission,” Bond said quietly, Q bundled against him, so similar to the last time. “A week or so, shouldn’t be longer. You’ll have the Betas, and I’ll speak to Eve…”

Q interrupted him by his fingers unintentionally tightening in Bond’s arm, Bond sighing slightly. He had anticipated this, they both had. Matters were barely stable as they were; leaving now would be painful for them both. “I’ll be fine,” Q said, to himself, to Bond, confirming what they both knew to be true. Bond would never leave Q unprotected again.

Bond nodded, kissing Q’s forehead gently, letting his Omega nuzzle against him, drinking in his scent.

The mission lasted five days. Q was panicky, in an understated way, by the time he returned; the pair spent the night pressed against one another, reaffirming that the other was still there.

The three other Omegas in Bond’s pack still suffered from separation anxiety, but far less acutely; Bond was able to leave them, as he couldn’t with Q, without undue problems. They were an active study in how bonding worked; not merely the physical, but the mental links. Q and Bond spent every hour they could with one another, until each facet of their partner could be read from any distance. The other Omegas were bonded in biology alone; biology, it would seem, was not everything.

Q and Bond rarely had sex, beyond their bonding. The circumstances before had been difficult to move on from; Bond was beginning to associate sex with duty and coercion, which was damaging enough in itself. Q still had crippling flashbacks, crying quietly at night when there was nobody around to see, when he thought Bond was asleep.

By necessity, everything went to pieces when Q went into heat. His partner’s heat triggered Bond’s own; the pair battened down the hatches, and rode out the heat in the most literal of senses.

Q remembered how much he had missed Bond, the immensely loving way Bond moved in him, even when the older man was consumed by his own heat. The sex wound up rough during heats, quite often; Alphas ended up losing self-control, and to be quite honest, Omegas needed the raw passion, something to quell the raging heat beneath their skin.

Bond’s thrusts were hard, but not unkind. Q had long since lost his colloquial sense of ‘self’ in favour of the Omega need to be fucked, quite simply. He needed to be taken, consumed by his Alpha, to forget _himself_. For a few glorious hours, days, he didn’t need to think. His life was on hold, MI6 didn’t matter, the petty, absurd concerns from day to day faded away entirely. 

He felt dizzy, breathless, as Bond’s hands remained tight around his hips, taking away _everything_ , belonging, wanted, cherished.

Bond’s hand closed around Q’s cock, stroking downwards teasingly, letting his gorgeous Omega push against him, plead wordlessly for more, completely unable to construct sentences.

Both were animalistic in the most complete sense of the word, all teeth and heat and frantic motion, bodies in perfect counterpoint, rough and fierce and utterly, wonderfully perfect.

“Are you alright?” Q breathed to James, curled together after the haze had receded, their minds coming back to them beyond the need to mate.

Bond breathed out slowly, a low hum. “I’m fine,” he said honestly, feeling Q’s hot skin under his hands, appreciating the effort Q was making; pushing out of the rawness of the heat, just to check Bond’s state. “It’s okay, Q. It’s all okay.”

Q purred, writhing in Bond’s arms, growling kisses into his skin. It would not be long now before they sank back into themselves; Q’s slim body melded with his, waiting, breathing rapidly against Bond’s chest, so young and so fragile and so immensely strong.

The world continued to shift on its axis. Q executed a series of truly spectacular missions, before a line of prototype aerosol narcotics that had an immediate and spectacular effect in the field. 

M, on request, allowed Q to attend board meetings; the meetings usually consisted of vital heads of branch, and the higher echelons of government. The PM nearly choked when he realised that the Quartermaster of MI6 was an Omega - nobody had told him; Q could safely say it was one of his favourite moments of his life to date.

006 – Bond’s closest friend, of the 00 agents – interestingly, made the move that really changed everything.

He was an Alpha, on a dangerous mission in Miami. An Omega and three Betas at home. Towards the end of his mission, he found a young Omega, who had been systematically abused by his Alpha.

Usually, that was not a point of interest, let alone concern. 006, however, snapped; the boy was barely sixteen, terrorised, body covered in bruises. It would not affect 006’s mission outcome; he contested for, and won, the teenage Omega from the ineffectual Alpha. They didn’t even fight; 006 went through official channels, and the cowardly man surrendered the Omega.

006 bonded with him that night. He contacted MI6, informed them of the situation; he was legally permitted to take the Omega back to the UK. The boy was cared for by MI6 Medical, before 006 did precisely what Bond had; let him live on his own, with a new set of Betas for protection.

The kid went back to school, started studying. He was legally bonded; 006 could, and would, protect him if necessary. For the time being, at least, he was an Omega with freedom.

Bond heard when Q flew into the shooting range, throwing his arms around a rather alarmed Bond and kissing him. Q explained the fundamentals in a burbling voice, excited beyond all feasible comprehension. 006 had gone out of his way to _rescue an Omega_. Bond raised an eyebrow, kissing Q, who was vibrating with excitement.

More stories began unfurling. Omegas sought new Alphas, found their escapes, found Alphas willing to take them away. Omega Rights groups went insane over it, the news exploding with ideas, with arguments, with the earliest mutations of a changing world.

Such ripples had long since begun in the States; an Omega made history, entering the President’s cabinet, four months later. Q-branch swelled with Omegas; they were never active agents, given their physical vulnerabilities, but they were able to reach positions of authority.

M broke his own laptop in a fit of livid anger, as his inbox heaved, the Board despising the sudden influx of Omegas; this was not what he had anticipated during his reign as M. The moment the rest of the world seemed faintly calm, absolute chaos erupted on his doorstep. His staff all decided to become politicians, trying to change the status quo for no explicable reason. He didn’t understand it.

Nevertheless, his interests were with England, the great nation he devoted his life to saving. If change was required, he would embrace it, regardless of his own personal outlook. 

The snowball effect: every aspect of Omega Rights took on momentum. Threads fell away from what was known, one by one, ceaseless and inexorable. Bond and Q were only part, tiny, but prolific; they were a catalyst, in one organisation. Their story was mimicked, replicated, expanded upon.

Their biology could not be denied; Alphas, Betas, Omegas all had their places. Omegas would never be good at highly physical, adrenaline-borne roles; Alphas would rarely have the patience for the quieter roles Omegas traditionally managed. They had their instincts, their tendencies.

Yet – the world changed. The segregation of their roles needed to die out, as their kind was; Alphas and Omegas sought freedom. Alphas, from compulsion and long-established expectation. Omegas, from a society that could hurt them.

It would take years, yet. Legislation was clumsy, and the older hands were resistant. The instant effect of rebellion; the established norm rallies their forces, prepared to fight.

And fight, they all would. The world so many people wanted was not impossible, could be reached.

One spark of inspiration, and there is fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I'd love to hear more thoughts, comments etc, if you're so inclined.
> 
> Thank you again, everybody. Jen.


End file.
